They Were A Crisp White When She Opened Her...

‘Say, three weeks maybe?’ ‘Actually…’ Gemma hesitated. ‘He’s not going back in three weeks.’ ‘What?’ Extending a manicured finger, she drew a line through the condensation on her glass. ‘He’s not going back at all.’ ‘Gemma!’ Melissa regarded her with consternation. ‘Why not? Has something happened? Did he lose his job? Or did he just decide—?’ ‘Whoa!’ Gemma began to laugh. ‘Now who’s playing twenty questions?’ Confident her friend wouldn’t be able to resist spilling the beans, Melissa made a show of putting a finger to her lips and waited. Her patience was rewarded almost immediately. ‘We always said he wouldn’t work on the rigs for ever. Just long enough to get some money behind us, enough to buy a house, get settled—’ ‘You’re going to buy a house?’ Gemma smiled. ‘Yes, we’ve started looking, okay?’ ‘So what’s he going to do for a job?’ ‘What he was always going to do. Go into partnership with his Dad. It’s just he didn’t want to do that straightaway—he wanted to be able to buy a. "Well, I certainly hope you will!" she said, indicating where she had written her home number.On impulse, I took her hand and placed a little kiss on it. I winked; she giggled. "Gentlemen!" she exclaimed, and drove away after a final wave.I was in heaven.The next evening, right after dinner was completed, I worked up the nerve to call her. It was about seven.Long story short, we talked until almost ten.It was a magical, delightful, intimate conversation that taught us about one another and left me panting for more.Finally, I said, "I'd like to cook dinner for you sometime. Are you free next Saturday?"There was a pause; then, "I'm sorry, there must be static. Did you say, 'cook'?"I chuckled. "I did indeed."She laughed. "I can't boil water. I'd love to have you cook for me." So, Saturday?" I inquired."Saturday it is!" she exclaimed. We rang off after a moment or so more.Through the next week, we had lunch together every day, and talked on the phone every evening. It was the beginning.
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